


Tired of Dreaming

by LexieCarver



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Revelations, light smut towards the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-01 04:18:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12148467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LexieCarver/pseuds/LexieCarver
Summary: Pairing: Crowley x ReaderBeta: @gettinjoyfulWord Count: 1,465A/N: This was written for @dreamingintheimpalawithdean Nicki’s Holiday Challenge with the prompt, “Dreams” by Imagine Dragons. Fluff, Crowley being hesitant, revelations and then more fluff with light smut references towards the end. :D





	Tired of Dreaming

 

(Found it on google, tinkered with the lighting.)

 

[Also posted on my Tumblr-](http://roxy-davenport.tumblr.com/post/165566279746/tired-of-dreaming)

 

“Hell is always so sodding dreary!” That was the recurring thought in Crowley’s head every time he had a morning meeting. What an odd thought for the King of Hell to have, but it wasn’t his fault. If the Winchesters hadn’t infected him with human blood, he’d be on the throne ruling with an iron fist and not a care in the world. But no, as fate would have it, here he was equipped with feelings, worries and dreams even. How nauseatingly human.

 

 

Crowley wasn’t sure whether to thank the Winchesters or kill them. He supposed, maybe, a thank you was in order. Without the lumbering piles of plaid, he would have never met you, the woman of his dreams. And, thanks to their handling, he had proper feelings to offer you. Whereas before...well…let’s just say, he wouldn’t have been so cuddly.

 

 

Ever since he met you, he wanted you, wanted a life where he could make you happy, offer you more than a dank, dreary kingdom with moronic monsters. What kind of legacy is that? You deserved a man who loved you and gave you children. You deserved a quiet, peaceful, loving existence. A happier existence and if he was being honest maybe he did too.

 

 

In the downtime he got between boring, ranting demons, he pondered about the truth of the matter in front of him. You never told him you didn't care about him. He simply thought you deserved better and never made a move. But maybe you wanted him? No? How could you? Maybe, if he confessed his feelings, you’d feel the same way? Maybe he could leave this life behind and just live out his life with you? Yeah right, that’s what dreams are for.

 

 

 

His dreams were always so vivid, as if everything were in technicolor. Your red dress, always red, flowed from your body and swayed as a strong wind blew through it from the huge open windows. The lace curtains danced in the wind and the wind chimes knocked together making such a calming and melodic sound. The sun shone through the curtains bathing your body in a soft glow.

 

 

 

You turned to him and smiled a warm smile beckoning him forward. He followed you, he’d follow you to the ends of the earth really so why not through the apartment you shared in the dream. The large black area rug caressed Crowley’s tired, naked, feet as he walked forward, held by your gaze. Your hair flowed behind you hitting him in the shoulder, as you turned around to smile at him. The slight brush of your hair on his body created a warm tingling feeling on his skin. He could smell your perfume, a floral blend with a beautiful warm, vanilla scent to it. It was, if he were there with you, really there in that moment and the dream was his kingdom in Hell. What he wouldn’t give to be with you, happy, like in the dream.

 

 

 

Every time, you lead him to the bedroom, sometimes to hold him, sometimes to make love. But every time, the dream would just slip away, all due to some moron reminding him of souls or some such trivial thing. He desperately wanted to stay in the dreams with you. Every time it got harder to pull himself out and get on with the task of ruling.

 

 

Crowley pulled himself out now to listen to the demon in front of him. The demon paused and looked at Crowley waiting for the King to speak. When he did, his voice was mechanical almost, perfunctory really. He wouldn't remember the meeting or what he agreed to because he wasn’t really listening, he was still in the dream with you, always with you.

 

 

Crowley hummed, and nodded at the right times and it looked as if he were listening, he was looking at the demon after all. No one questioned his attention nor would they. Crowley was growing tired of the dream. It was haunting him, he wanted the real thing, he wanted you any way he could get you. The dream wasn’t enough anymore. He’s known that for a while now but confessing his feelings… well there was a risk. Crowley couldn’t be sure you would return his feelings but it was obvious there was no turning back. He wasn’t even listening now. This kingdom, none of it meant anything anymore without you.

 

   

The day passed slowly with demon after demon asking him for advice. He was tasked with looking over hundreds of contracts, greasing more than his fair share of palms and acquiring items. It was a rather tiring day until he got a text message. He groaned fearing it was a Winchester and was debating whether to answer when he remembered the exact chime he heard. That was the sound of your text, yes, he programmed a separate sound for just your texts. He quickly fished the phone out of his pocket and looked down.

 

 

Text: “We need your help.”

 

 

He frowned. No pleasantries. No flirty undertones, just all business. He went back to you in the dream, the way you smiled at him beckoning him closer. He closed his eyes and stayed basking in the image of you, the image of you he never thought he’d have. There was no question that he would help you the second you asked but he needed to guard his emotions first. He was losing his resolve to tell you how he felt. With a quick snap he was there, clearing his throat behind you.

 

 

 

“Oh hi Crowley,” your face lit up as you turned around noticing him there. He gave you a curious look which you paid no mind to. Your smile was a warm one, the one from the dream, the one he could never forget. “Sorry to text. Know you’re busy and I’m the good guy... Running to help hunters isn’t good for business and I don’t wanna put you in a rough spot but we need your help. Sam and Dean are out getting food. They don’t know I texted you. You know them, pig-headed and such. They think we can figure it out ourselves but we need this occult item. Sure, we can steal it, but it would be much-.”

 

 

Crowley smiled at your nervous rambling. You were sweet to worry about his reputation but he could care less about said reputation. You needed his help, you trusted him and you called him when you were alone. Your cheeks were flushed, you were biting your lip, looking at him coquettishly. Why hadn’t he seen all these signs before? Why did he fantasize for so long? Dream of you for so long? Let you haunt him when you were his for the taking?

 

 

He stopped your rant with a soft smile. He moved closer to you, close enough to touch you. He saw the way you sucked in a breath nearly gasping as he placed a tender hand on your cheek. He slowly caressed it and you closed your eyes and let out a very soft moan, soft enough that a human might not hear but he was no human. He smiled overcome that he may have a chance here, that his dream could be a reality.

 

 

“Whatever you need dove, tell me. I have several warehouses of occult items. I assure you, whatever you need, I have it or can get it.”

 

 

You were so lost in his touch that you forgot what you were talking about. The mention of occult items drew you out of your dreams with Crowley. The ones where he commanded you to please him, where he threw you around the bed making you scream his name. You shivered at the thought of his gravely voice commanding you onto your knees right now. Swallowing, you fought to focus on the item you needed. You named the item in a whisper that was half a moan. You were craving his touch. You wouldn’t have long before the Winchesters came back and talking about work instead of other activities seemed stupid. But how to move this along. So many clothes, so little time.

 

 

Without the Winchesters blocking his advances, guarding you and offering explanations as to your flushed face, nervousness, etc, he could read the desire on your face and in your body language, clear as day. He whispered in your ear, “I’m tired of living a dream. I want to be with you any way I can.”

 

 

You gasped before his lips met yours. He actually felt the same way. Finally your dream was coming true and Crowley was yours. You hoped the boys took the long way back.


End file.
